Return to England
by texasfaith89
Summary: Sequel to "Coffee Shop Special." Marine Private H.J.P. Gibbs is on leave in London when he discovers a whole new world. Will he decide to stay in this new world? Or will he go back to his life in the U.S.? Harry Potter & NCIS crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Private H. J. P. Gibbs strolled casually down a London street. He was on his first leave, from his first assignment in the United States Marine Corp. The eighteen year old marine was tall, maybe 6', 6' 1". His black hair was cut short in a military style, but it still managed to exude an aura of messiness. His emerald-green eyes were piercing, highly observant, and constantly moving to take in his surroundings. One might attribute this level of awareness to his military training, but much of his observational skills were acquired from his adoptive father. Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had rescued one Harry James Potter from his abusive uncle, and subsequently adopted him. Harry kept his birth name, but added Gibbs to the end and went by his initials. Most of Harry's marine buddies only knew him as J. P. Gibbs.

J. P. glanced around, hoping to find a pub or restaurant where he could get a bite to eat. It was nearing one o'clock, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast at 0600 hours that morning. This first day of leave J. P. had decided to spend by himself just wandering around the city. He knew that he had been born in England, and wanted a chance to look around without having to act all upbeat and cheerful for his buddies.

Just as he was about to give up on finding an eating establishment, J. P. spotted a small pub with a sign in front that read _The Leaky Cauldron._ Shrugging, he decided to check it out. He could always go somewhere else if it turned out to be a dud.

* * *

Author's Note:

What do you think? Should I continue? This is a sequel to my other story, "Coffee Shop Special."

Disclaimers:

I do not own anything! I'm just borrowing the characters and worlds from J.K. Rowling and the creators of NCIS.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As he pushed open the door and walked in, J. P. quickly scanned the dim interior for possible signs of danger. Satisfied that everything seemed safe, he continued into the pub and let the door swing shut behind him.

The man behind the bar defied J. P.'s attempts at estimating an age; he appeared to be middle-aged, but his eyes seemed a lot older. They were kind eyes, but at the moment they were full of wariness as they studied J.P.

"My name's Tom. What can I do for you?"

"You have anything to eat? I've been walking for a while, and I'm famished." J.P. replied.

"Sure. Today's special is fish 'n chips. Comes with a free butterbeer."

"Butterbeer? What's that?" J.P. inquired.

Tom looked up sharply at that. "Butterbeer is a popular non-alcoholic beverage in this area." He finally said.

J. P. shrugged. "Okay. Sounds good to me. I'll have one of the specials then."

"Coming right up." Tom set down the rag he had been polishing the bar with, and stepped out of the main room and into the kitchen.

While waiting for his order, J. P. sat at the bar. He turned around so that he was leaning back on his elbows, and quietly surveyed the room. While his initial scan hadn't revealed any danger, he wanted to take a closer look at the occupants of the room. It was a medium-sized room, with tables scattered around and a set of stairs leading upwards at the back. Also on the back wall was a huge fireplace with a merrily crackling fire going even though it was the middle of summer. As his eyes adjusted further to the dim lighting, J. P. was able to make out more and more details. As a result, he became increasingly confused. The other patrons all seemed to be wearing robes! Their behavior was even more disconcerting. Everywhere he looked, people were sitting with their heads close together, furtively whispering to each other and casting suspicious glances in his direction.

At the sound of a plate being set on the bar, J. P. turned around.

"Here you are." Tom said. "That'll be three sickles and two knuts."

"What?" J. P. asked in confusion.

"Three sickles and two knuts," Tom repeated in a slow slightly impatient tone.

"I knew the Brits used a different money system, but I've never heard of sickles or—what did you call 'em? Knuts?"

"Look, if you don't have the money then you shouldn't have ordered the food! I know you are a wizard, you wouldn't have been able to find this place otherwise, so I'll thank you to kindly stop joking around!" Tom exclaimed angrily.

"Wizard?! WIZARD?!? Just what kind of nuthouse are you running here? There are no such things as wizards!"

By this time both Tom and J. P. were shouting and all the other patrons were avidly watching the byplay. Before the confrontation could escalate any further, two men stepped up on either side of J. P. and calmly asked him to accompany them outside.

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong! I just wanted to get something to eat, and this crazy guy here started spouting off about wizards of all things!" J.P. angrily asserted.

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, if you will please come with us, we can get this matter cleared up quickly," the taller man stated.

"Fine. Whatever." J.P. said as he shrugged out of the man's grasp. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

"_I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, if you will please come with us, we can get this matter cleared up quickly," the taller man stated._

"_Fine. Whatever." J.P. said as he shrugged out of the man's grasp. "Let's go."_

Chapter Three

Instead of heading out the front door as J. P. expected, the two men guided him towards a door at the back that he hadn't even noticed. As they stepped outside, J.P. came to a halt to give his eyes time to adjust to the bright sunlight. He turned to the men, about to ask what he had done wrong, when he saw that they both were holding long polished sticks that were currently pointed at him. J. P. immediately tensed.

"All right, just take it easy, we have to bring you to Headquarters," the tall black man said.

"Why? Who are you? And what does all this have to do with me?! I'm an American citizen for goodness' sake!"

"Everything will be explained to you at Headquarters. Now, please don't make us use force."

J.P. examined the man who had just spoken closely. His instincts told him that this was a man trained and ready to fight, so he decided to try one more time for a peaceful solution.

"Just tell me what I'm being arrested for. That's all I'm asking," he calmly asked.

"I'm sorry, but I can't answer your questions here. You have to come with us to Headquarters."

'Well, I tried,' J.P. thought. He quickly twisted out of the man's grasp and took off down the alley. He had nearly reached the corner when he wondered why they weren't pursuing him. He got his answer when he felt a blow to his back, followed by encroaching darkness. 'Man, all I wanted was something to eat!' was all he had time to think before everything went black and he sank into unconsciousness.

HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP

"Where'd he…from?"

"… is he?"

"He looks so much like…"

As his mind slowly cleared, J.P. could hear several voices all around him. Remaining completely still, he tried to ascertain where he was and in what condition. He could feel cool cotton sheets beneath him, so he was on a bed. His wrists and ankles were bound, but not uncomfortably tight. There were several people in the room with him, including at least one female, so he decided against attempting an escape right then. Finally, deciding that there was nothing left to do, J.P. opened his eyes just a crack. He hoped to be able to get a better idea of what he was up against before letting his captors know that he was awake, but that plan was quickly demolished when he met the coldest, blackest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

"He's awake."

The sharp tone cut through the chatter like a laser through fog.

Giving up any hope of subtlety, J.P. opened his eyes fully and gazed around the room.

He was indeed on a bed in a medium-sized bedroom. There were three people standing around the bed looking down at him. The man who had alerted the others to his waking, stood to his right. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length black hair, and pale complexion. His eyes were black as coal, and his expression was one of wary disgust.

To J.P.'s left stood a woman of average height, warm eyes, and graying hair. From the way she behaved, he surmised that she was a nurse of some kind.

At the foot of the bed stood the most outrageous looking character J.P. had ever seen. He had a full head of snow-white hair, and a beard that fell all the way to his waist. His eyes were china blue and twinkled as if someone had sprinkled fairy dust on them. But the most outrageous thing about him was his clothes. He wore full-length robes that kept changing color. In the few minutes since J.P. had first seen them, they had cycled through every shade of orange, red, yellow, or any combination thereof, that one could imagine. As if that weren't enough, there were stars and moons scattered all over the old man's robes that cycled through every imaginable shade of purple in tandem with the shifts of the background color. Already J.P. could feel a headache coming on.

A quickly muffled snort of amusement snapped him out of his color-induced haze. Glancing to his right, J.P. could see the black-haired man had switched from an expression of disgust to one of controlled amusement.

His analysis of the man's facial expressions was interrupted by the old man.

"Hello! My name is Albus Dumbledore! This is Professor Snape, and this lovely lady is Madame Pomfrey. Can you tell us who you are?"

His tone was gentle and friendly, but J.P. could detect the underlying note of steel that indicated the question would be answered, whether he liked it or not.

"Private H.J.P. Gibbs. Serial number—"

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore interrupted. "You're in the muggle military? I'm afraid that we don't have much use for serial numbers and the like. Can't you just give us your name? That's all we want."

J.P. paused and considered. They didn't sound like any terrorist group he had heard of, and it wasn't like his name was classified or anything. Besides, he had already given them most of it.

"My name is Harry James Potter Gibbs. But I go by J.P."

The silence that fell after he finished speaking immediately made him nervous. The gobsmacked expressions on all three faces made him even more nervous.

"What? Do you have some kind of problem with my name?" J.P. demanded.

"And while I have the opportunity, why am I tied up? Are you holding me for ransom? Because if you are, you should know that the U.S. Government doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

The implication that they were terrorists seemed to wake them from their shock.

"Oh, no, my dear boy, we aren't terrorists! We merely wanted to speak with you!" The old man's twinkle was back in full force, but he wasn't going to deter J.P. from getting some answers.

"So, you wanted to speak with me, huh? Well, generally it's not considered polite to knock someone out and tie them up just to speak with them. The socially accepted method is to ask, politely, for an appointment," he said sarcastically.

"Now, would you PLEASE untie me!" he growled.

"Only if you promise to hear us out. Just give us one hour. Then we will let you go, and you can choose whether or not to ever contact us again." Dumbledore bargained.

J.P. sighed in exasperation. He didn't think he would be able to escape on his own, and no one would realize he was missing until the end of his two-week leave. He might as well hear what these kooks had to say, and then he would high-tail it back to the base.

"Fine. I promise to listen to what you have to say, but I don't promise I'll believe you. And I'm out of here as soon as the hour's up." He warned.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore exclaimed, then, pulling out a polished stick, he waved it in J.P.'s direction and suddenly his restraints were gone.

J.P. sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists, and said, "Well, let's get this over with, then."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As J.P followed the man in the headache-inducing robes, he wondered what kind of group this was. It was obvious that the man named Albus Dumbledore was in charge, at least of those currently present, and that there were more members of this group than were here. J.P. had not yet seen the two men who captured him, and he assumed that they were not the only ones absent.

The rather odd-looking procession ended when they reached a large kitchen. Dumbledore motioned for him to sit down at the table and J.P. complied.

"Now then. Where to start…" Dumbledore mused.

"The beginning is generally a good place," J.P. quipped.

"Yes, yes, of course. Splendid idea, my boy!"

There was a brief silence that quickly became uncomfortable.

"So…" J.P. let his voice trail off questioningly.

"Yes, indeed," the old man began. "Well, I suppose the first thing you should know is that you are a wizard."

"A…wizard." J.P. repeated flatly.

"Yes. As are all of us. Well, Madame Pomfrey is actually a witch, but I'm sure you get the point."

"Okay, just for the sake of argument, I'll accept that for now. I will be asking for proof later on though. But for now, just continue with your tale, if you please," J.P. said politely.

'I may as well humor the batty old man, it might make for an entertaining hour rather than a boring one,' J.P. thought.

"Well then, to continue, you are a wizard and magic is real. If you really are Harry James Potter, then we have been looking for you for a very long time. You see, I knew, we all knew, your parents."

"I assume you mean my birth parents? Because my father is alive and well."

"Yes, we knew James and Lily Potter. They were both very talented. They were killed when you were fifteen months old. You were placed with your closest living relatives, Lily's sister and her husband."

At that bit of news, J.P. snorted in disgust. "You mean Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia? What kind of idiot would leave a child with those horrible people?" He shook his head. "Do you want to know how I came to be adopted? My adopted father saw Vernon beating me in an alley and stopped him. After everything was said and done, Vernon and his family had been thrown out of the country, and I had been adopted and granted citizenship in the U.S." J.P. sighed. "All of that happened when I was seven years old. I never did understand why they hated me so much…" As his voice trailed off into contemplative silence, J.P. saw that Dumbledore appeared to be very sad about something. "Anyway, please, continue with your story," J.P. briskly said.

And so, Dumbledore proceeded to explain to J.P. all about Voldemort and the prophecy, the betrayal of the Potters by one of their closest friends, and the eventual discovery that Sirius Black was, in fact, innocent. As he sat there and listened, J.P. couldn't help but start to believe what was said. He began to recall the times that odd things would happen around him, and when Dumbledore mentioned being the headmaster of Hogwarts, J.P. remembered what he and his dad had thought was a prank letter that he had received on his eleventh birthday.

Sooner than J.P. thought, the hour was up, and he had a choice to make. Should he stay and learn more about the wizarding world? Or should he ignore what he had already heard and witnessed, and return to his life as a normal marine? Could there possibly be a way for him to balance the two? His thoughts kept whirling around and around, faster and faster, until he could barely keep up.

Leaning over and putting his head in his hands, J.P. begged, "No more! Please, I just need some time to process all of this!" Abruptly standing, he made his way to the front door. "Please, just take me back to someplace I recognize, and leave me. I need some time alone, and if I decide to pursue this new life you're talking about I will need to make some arrangements. Give me a way to get in touch with you, and I'll let you know what I decide, but for now, I really have to leave."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding, and handed him a paperclip. "This is a portkey; it's tied to my magical signature, so anything touching it when it is activated will be carried directly to me. Just write a note whenever you're ready, clip it to this portkey, and say: 'decision made.' It will also bring you if you are touching it, so be careful."

J.P. took the portkey paperclip and nodded his understanding. "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get going."

"Alright my boy. Here's another portkey, it will take you directly to your hotel room. Don't hesitate to contact me for any reason. I hope I will see you soon!"

With a last glance at the headmaster's twinkling gaze, J.P. portkeyed away from his new-found world of the fantastic, and back to the familiar world of the mundane.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Hey all, I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I had to study for finals. Speaking of which, they are finally over! Which is a HUGE relief for me! Thanks to all the people who took the time to read my stories, whether you reviewed them or not. Though a special thanks goes out to all those that did review! I can't tell you how much it means to me.  
Anyway, enough of my rambling, on to the story!

* * *

Chapter Five

J. P. arrived back in his hotel room in a swirl of bright colors. Upon arriving, he promptly stumbled before tucking into a quick somersault. Standing up, he brushed himself off before glancing around the room. Having verified that he was indeed in the proper hotel room, J.P. flopped backwards onto the bed. 'Man alive! I don't know whether to check myself into a mental hospital or what!' he thought. Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his face fiercely, as if to rub away any cobwebs. 'Okay.' He thought. 'Come on, J.P., you've got to get a handle on yourself! Now get up and start using your brain like your dad taught you!' After that quick mental head slap, J.P. went to the desk and booted up his laptop computer. He had always been able to work through things more easily if he at least pretended to be talking to his father. He started typing an email to his dad explaining everything that had happened since he walked into the _Leaky Cauldron_.

_Dear Dad,_

_I have had the weirdest day…_

…_and then, the old man, Albus Dumbledore said that the reason my birth parents were killed was because this dark wizard believed a prophecy that claimed I was the only one with the power to defeat him! I mean, what kind of nutjob believes in prophecies?! I know, I know, the same kind that believes in magic, right? But they proved the whole magic thing. I saw them levitate stuff, and even change (they called it transfiguring) a chair into a donkey! I don't know exactly what they want from me, but I suspect that the dark wizard isn't the only one that believes the prophecy. You wouldn't believe the looks of joy mixed with calculation that crossed their faces when I told them my name. It was like they had heard the messiah had returned and was under their complete control. Well, I say they, really it was only Headmaster Dumbledore and that Snape guy that were looking like the cat that ate the canary. The nurse (or "Healer"), Madame Pomphrey, seemed like a nice enough lady. I don't think she's in on all of the headmaster's plans though. _

_Anyway, after I heard that lovely little piece of news about the "prophecy" I knew I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I wouldn't put it past the old man to try and keep me by force. Although, from his descriptions of this Voldemort guy, I agree that he does need killing. I just don't know if I want to involve myself in this war. I suppose I'm going to need more information before deciding."  
_  
Glancing at the clock, J.P. realized it wasn't even time for dinner yet. Making a quick decision, he turned back to his typing.__

"I may see if I can disguise myself and sneak back into that pub to gather some more intel. 

_If I don't contact you within 24 hours, you can assume that something has gone wrong. Hopefully it won't, but I'm not counting on it._

_Love you!_

_J.P._

HPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHP

Agent Gibbs walked around his desk and sat down with a sigh. He and his team had just wrapped up a month long investigation, and he was looking forward to a little down-time. Sipping his coffee while waiting for his computer to boot up, Gibbs couldn't help but to remember the first time he ever saw his son. Shaking his head, he quickly reminded himself that Harry was now a full-grown young man and quite capable of taking care of himself. Still, even though Harry had a new name to go along with his adult status, Gibbs would always subconsciously think of him as the little boy he had rescued.

'Finally,' he thought as his computer screen came up. As always, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any new email. He quickly spotted the one from his son in between a reminder of the monthly senior agent meeting, and one of those ubiquitous spam emails. Ignoring all the others, he opened his son's email. As he read it, the other team members were surprised to see him go from laughing quietly, to a silence that grew increasingly tense the further he read. Once he finished reading the email, he checked the rest of his inbox carefully for another email from his son before glancing quickly at his watch, then to the clock on the wall that showed what time it was in London, before opening the email again to check the time-stamp. All this happened within fifteen minutes of his arrival, so Tony, Ziva, and McGee were all shocked to see him jump out of his chair, grab his badge and gun, and practically run up to the director's office. Overcome with curiosity, Tony snuck over to the Boss's desk and read the last few sentences of the email before checking the different clocks himself. He quickly calculated the time differential, and realized what had Gibbs in such a rush. J.P. had sent the email exactly 36 hours ago.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

_36 hours ago (just after Harry leaves Headquarters)…_

Snape and Dumbledore stood in the entry hall of Headquarters and watched Harry Potter portkey away. Shaking his head in disbelief, Snape muttered under his breath about "impossible luck" and "fabulous timing." Turning to go back into the kitchen, Snape heard the headmaster whisper to himself "I knew I did the right thing!" This, of course, immediately caught the spy's attention. 'What did the old coot do?' Snape thought. He swiftly decided to investigate. After all, he is a spy! If Albus had something to hide, Snape needed to ferret it out—in the spy business information equaled survival. And even though he technically worked for Dumbledore, Snape knew he had to hedge his bets. One never knew when a piece of information might become valuable.

* * *

Dumbledore stood and watched his newest pawn leave, all the while running his mind over the observations he had made in the past few hours. Harry was a strong young man, intelligent, but trusting, and best of all, he had no previous knowledge of the magical world. That weakness would be easy to exploit. He chuckled to himself. He knew it had been a risk to leave Harry with the American, but all in all, it looked like his gamble would pay off in the long run. He had investigated Leroy Jethro Gibbs before ever meeting with him. After meeting Gibbs disguised as a British government official, Dumbledore had decided that his initial impressions of the man were accurate. Loyal, hardworking, unafraid of danger, willing to take any risks to get the job done…yes, Agent Gibbs was the perfect Gryffindorish person to raise Harry. Of course, he couldn't let Harry start displaying accidental magic around a muggle, so Dumbledore made the decision to place a bind on Harry's powers that only a highly-skilled Legilimens would be able to undo. And even then, only one who knew exactly what to look for would be able to completely remove the block. This way, Harry would grow up without any knowledge of magic until Dumbledore was ready to use him. Then Dumbledore could remove the block and gain Harry's everlasting gratitude for "fixing" his magic. While he hadn't expected Harry to discover the Wizarding World on his own, this new turn of events actually could work out to his advantage. He would still be able to control what Harry learned about the Wizarding World, and about Voldemort. He was relieved to see that the Obliviate was still in place—it wouldn't do for Harry to remember meeting him as a child. This way he could play the concerned grandfather role that he played so well. Now, he just had to arrange things so that Harry realized just how personal this war was going to get.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hey, sorry about the shortness of the chapter...it's really more of an interlude, to try and explain some of the backstory. Hopefully this helps answer some of your questions! I will try to have a longer chapter up in a few days. Thanks for reading...and reviewing! :)


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